Love and Memories
by BlueberryPancakes
Summary: Jack reminisces while James sleeps... Sparrington slash, Jack Sparrow & James Norrington, ficlet: fluffy, sweet, nothing too explicit.


Love and Memories

_"Just... stay there... and for the love of all that is good and holy, and of rum- STAY QUIET!"_

It seemed like so long ago, now, when they had nearly been discovered that night. Lieutenants Gillette and Groves had come knocking on the Commodore's office door, knowing that he had been staying late and would most likely be spending the night in the small bedroom in the back.

"Jack…" James breathed, arching his back and pressing his body closer. "Please…"

_Jack Sparrow was all too ready to comply when a heaving banging came from the door, rattling the latch. _

_"Commodore Norrington!"_

_James's green eyes went wide; he sat up suddenly, throwing Jack off him and to the side. The pirate had been caught off guard and tumbled off the small bed, landing on the cold tile floor with a dulled _thump

_"Commodore Norrington! Sir, are you there?"_

_James began to breath heavily, "Oh, no…" He muttered. His eyes searched frantically around the room, settling on an old wardrobe in the corner. He threw himself out of bed and grabbed Jack by the wrist as he tried to stand up._

_"What was that all 'bout, love-" Jack started to protest, but James clapped a hand over his mouth. _

_"Shhhh!" He hissed. He yanked open the wardrobe doors, "Get inside!"_

_"What?" Jack protested, but was muffled by the hand still covering his mouth. _

_"Get inside! They can't catch us together! They can't catch you! Just… stay there... and for the love of all that is good and holy, and of rum- STAY QUIET!" James shoved him roughly inside and closed the door, latching it from the outside. He quickly pushed Jack's discarded clothing underneath the bed and ran towards the door, as the knocking came again. _

_"Commodore Norrington, sir!"_

_He glanced down, praying the bulge in his breeches wasn't too apparent, at least, in the darkness. He unlatched the door and opened it. _

He had completely forgotten what the reason was, but it was something that required immediate attention and it had been several hours before an exhausted James had stumbled back to bed, collapsing in a boneless heap, leaving his lover trapped in the wardrobe. It took several tries and a large effort to cause the heavy wooden structure to shake before James jerked out of his sleep, eyes flying wildly over to the corner, thinking he was in the midst of a nightmare, where his wardrobe was alive, before he was let out of the cramped space. The exhausted pair had lay down on the bed and fallen asleep instantly in each other's arms.

Jack watched as James slept silently beside him. His chest was bare, the pale color of his soft skin highlighted by the moonlight streaming in through the open window, a light breeze reminiscent of the Caribbean summer at hand blowing through the half-closed, linen curtains.

Had it all actually happened? Was James lying beside him, enveloped completely in a peaceful sleep? There were times he didn't want to open his eyes, for fear that he would awaken from the perfect dream, only to find the place next to him in bed in want of a certain Commodore.

Jack traced the faint white scar at the top of James's forehead, barely below the hairline, fingertips gently brushing the skin and silky brown hair.

_"An' what about yerself, love. A Commodore's got ta 'ave some scars o' his own. What 'bout this one…"_

_"It's not an interesting story."_

_"Ye tryin' ta tell me ye've got a scar wifout a story behin' it?"_

_"That's not what I said. I said it wasn't interesting. Of course there's a story behind it."_

_"Well, let's 'ave it. We've got the time."_

_"I slid on some spilled cooking oil in the kitchen and hit my head on an open cabinet."_

_"I ne'er pegged ye ta be a clumsy one."_

"I was four."

James murmured softly in his sleep and shifted, pressing his body closer to Jack's.

Jack smiled and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. He pressed a feather-light kiss to his temple.

"Your compass, Sparrow."

"Captain, Captain Sparrow." The pirate corrected from his seat on the floor of the brig, "What 'bout it?"

"It doesn't point North." James paused, pressing his lips together, "Where does it point?"

Jack grinned, "Where did it point fer ye, mate?"

"That's not the answer to my question." James tried to snarl, but the response came out low, almost a whisper.

Jack continued to grin. He pulled the compass from his belt and opened it, watching the needle spin until it settled on a destination. That's interesting… He thought, noticing the slight pause, before it turned in the direction of the Isla de Murerta.

"Dammit, Sparrow, answer me."

"Captain." Jack responded automatically. He stood and turned the compass, pushing it through the bars and into James's hand.

James watched the needle spin around one, and settle. He looked up at the pirate.

"It points ta yer deepest desire."

James's hand shook. He started at the prisoner in front of him. His eyes looked pained as they drifted back to the needle, the line straight ahead, barely twitching to either side before righting itself again.

"An' what does yer 'eart tell ye, mate?" Jack's voice was low and rough, almost seductive.

James's sucked in a shaky breath. His eyes flicked nervously. He couldn't believe the compass. It had to be wrong. It was leading him to his desire, but what was that desire?

Jack watched silently. Silently as the grave. He thought darkly. He thought of his own reading, only moment's before, the few seconds of pause before continuing to the direction of the Isla de Muerta. "It can point ta a person." He said, finally.

James's head snapped up, his eyes wide. Suddenly the air around them seemed stifling, even more so than normal for the bowels of a ship. He swallowed hard, eyes never leaving those deep brown ones; so dark the pupil was nearly lost, surrounded by the smudged kohl.

Jack stepped once, pressing himself against the bars, closing the small gap between them.

James felt his body move on its own accord, moving closer to the bars that separated them. He could feel Jack's breath. His eyes slid closed as his head dipped down.

Jack closed his eyes as their lips met.

Rum; dark, spicy, rich. The salt of the sea. A sort of strange innocence.

The taste of a home soil, a memory kept deep within the heart. Years of travels but no seeming port to be found. The hint of salt mingled with cannons smoke.

The kiss lasted for only a few moments. In those moments, the world around them stopped completely. There was nothing, nothing but themselves, standing there together.

James broke away, breathing ragged. Through he tried, he could not pull his eyes away from Jack's gaze.

Jack reached a hand through the bars, gently tilting the compass back so that he could see its face. The needle pointed straight ahead, unwavering. He turned his eyes back to the trembling Commodore.

When James had let him go that day, he knew why. He knew not if he would ever see the man again, but since that night, every time he opened his compass it flickered and paused in the direction of Port Royal. Until one night, after the gruesome discovery that the sea had reclaimed the Isla de Muerta, it turned back, and did not waiver.

Jack slid down in bed, unconsciously pulling James closer to him. He rested his head against him, blinking slowly. "Love ye, Jamie." He whispered, using the pet name he usually kept to himself.

James's chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm of sleep, his mind filled with thoughts and memories of times past.

"Love you too, Jack."

The End


End file.
